


espresso your feelings

by foxhat



Series: coffee puns and first dates [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, BeruJean Week 2016, First Dates, French Jean Kirstein, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 18:56:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6295906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxhat/pseuds/foxhat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the coffeeshop au that no one asked for: the sequel (that no one asked for)<br/>bertl and jean go on their first date, and it goes surprisingly well</p>
            </blockquote>





	espresso your feelings

**Author's Note:**

> i decided to combine two prompts of berujean week (college au and roses) and use it as an excuse to write a sequel for this series, because according to the law i'm an adult which means no one can stop me

There had been a lot of very long days at Bertl’s work over the past two years, but none of them had ever felt as long as today. He had been texting Reiner all day, so much so that by now his friend didn’t even reply anymore. He tried to keep himself busy, scrubbing at tables and grinding beans– he even told Ymir he’d voluntarily do the dishes.

However, he couldn’t stop watching the clock. He was pretty sure it was broken– surely more than five minutes had passed since the last time he checked. 

The worst thing was that Ymir was onto him since the moment Jean had left through the doors, and she was . She kept throwing him smug grins, wiggling her eyebrows every time Bertholdt made the mistake of keeping eye contact for more than five seconds. She had even told the flower lady about his date, and she had spent twenty extra minutes in the coffeeshop to enthusiastically tell Bertl about her first date, and how it had ended with her marrying her current husband.

He was glad that at least Ymir hadn’t told any other of the regulars, because he was pretty sure that any more conversations like that one would’ve ended in him collapsing in a puddle of nerves on the floor.  
Right now the clock showed it was five minutes before the end of his shift, and Bertholdt did his best to keep the fluttering in his stomach at a minimum. He failed, of course. There was no way he could really be prepared for his date with Jean, not when his mind kept providing him with memories of Jean’s grin, or his eyes, or the flashes of collarbone that his wide sweaters always provided. Would he be wearing one of those sweaters on their date?   
Oh, no, what if Jean would dress up for him? He didn’t have anything nice with him– just the clothes in which he’d left that morning. How was he supposed to know he’d go on a date at the end of his shift? But then, Jean surely knew that, right? Right?

Bertl fidgeted a little too much with the cloth in his hands, and he accidentally dropped it in the sink, splashing water in his face.   
Sputtering and wiping at his face, trying to prevent any soap from getting into his eyes, he heard the soft ringing caused by the door opening.

It was Jean. Of course.

He knew his face must be bright red as he yelped a, ‘Just a moment!’, and ducked behind the counter. Right after that, he realised his mistake.   
Because now he was crouching behind the counter, soapy water still splashed across his face and no dish towel in sight to wipe it off. Actually, the only thing in sight were Ymir’s legs. And then her very big grin as she bend down and threw a clean dish towel in his face.

‘You are such a dork. I’d call you cute if I were even the tiniest bit into guys,’ she told him, and fortunately she was nice enough to whisper. Bertholdt turned even redder and quickly wiped the water from his face, before he stood up again and forced a smile at Jean, who was standing at the counter looking a little confused.

‘Hi,’ Bertholdt said, and Jean showed him a careful smile.

‘Hi,’ he replied, and tugged at his coat. ‘You ready?’ He asked, and Bertholdt nodded– probably a little too enthusiastically.

‘Yes! I mean, yeah. I just have to get out of this shirt and get my bag,’ he said, and Jean’s eyes widened.

‘I- I mean, get out of this shirt and put on the one that’s not my uniform,’ Bertl hastily explained. He could hear Ymir mumbling a soft, ‘dorks’, under her breath, and tried his best to ignore it.

‘R-right, yeah. I knew that. Uhm, I’ll wait here?’ Jean said, but the ending sounded more like a question. He looked a little nervous, and part of Bertholdt was glad for that. At least he wasn’t the only one.

‘I’ll be right back,’ he promised, before quickly making his way to the staff’s room.

He quickly changed into his own shirt, nervously rubbing out the few wrinkles before he put on his coat and grabbed his bag.

When he returned, Ymir was leaning over the counter and whispering conversationally, Jean looking flustered and slightly scared. He couldn’t really blame him. Ymir was always vaguely threatening during first meetings.

‘Okay, I’m ready,’ Bertholdt said, and Jean jumped a little when he heard his voice. ‘Bye, Ymir,’ he added. 

‘Have fun on your date,’ Ymir replied, and the suggestive wink she added to her words made Bertholdt choke on his breath.

‘Right. Yes. Bye,’ he muttered, glad that Jean seemed just as eager to leave the shop and Ymir behind when they walked outside.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Jean let out his breath in a loud sigh.

‘Sorry I left you behind with Ymir,’ Bertholdt said. ‘She can be a little– intense.’

‘She threatened to shrink all of my underwear so I would never be able to have babies again if I mistreated you,’ Jean said, and Bertholdt couldn’t help the surprised laugh that escaped him.  
‘Now I’m _really_ sorry,’ he mumbled, and the shy grin Jean gave him made his chest do weird things.

‘It’s okay, since you were the one to ask me out. Sort of,’ Jean said, and it suddenly hit Bertholdt.

He was on a date. With _Jean_. He didn’t think he’d ever been on a date before – the few awkward dates with girls he’d had in Germany didn’t really count, since he had been barely aware they’d been dates at the time. He started nervously picking at the fraying edges of his sleeves, looking at the ground that moved beneath their feet. 

‘So, uhm,’ Jean started, and Bertholdt threw him a quick look.

‘At first I just assumed we’d go for coffee, but then I talked to Marco and he said it was a bad idea because you make coffee all day, and I realised he was right so I tried to come up with something else, but I actually never went on that many dates. So I thought we could just– walk around for a bit,’ he said, ending his short rambling. When Bertholdt looked up again, Jean was nervously looking back at him.

‘Okay,’ Bertholdt said, nodding. ‘I haven’t really gone on that much dates either,’ he confessed, ‘so it seems fine.’

He actually thought walking around sounded better than sitting somewhere in a cafe, getting anxious about what kind of food to order, or what topics to talk about. His shoulders relaxed a little, and he slowly let out his breath to release some more of the tension he felt.

‘Good,’ Jean said, and he sounded relieved. Bertholdt started suspecting that he hadn’t been the only one getting anxious about tonight.

‘It’s been a while since I really took the time to walk around the city,’ Bertholdt admitted. ‘I don’t really go out that much,’ he added with a small blush. He rarely said that last part out loud. He was 24 years old, and for some reason that meant people expected him to have a wild social life, going out for drinks at least twice a month. The truth was that most days after his shift he was already so worn-out from all the social contact that all he wanted to do was stay in and order take-out with Reiner.

‘Me neither,’ Jean said, to his surprise. ‘I mean, Marco drags me along to a party every now and then, but it’s–,’ he fell silent for a moment and hunched up his shoulders a little.

‘I just don’t like it when I don’t know all the people there. Which is the case most times, because I’ve only been here for two months now.’

‘It’s good that you have Marco, though,’ Bertl pointed out. ‘It can be pretty tough to make friends in a different country.’

Jean hummed in agreement. ‘Were you alone when you came here?’ He asked, and the sudden concern in his voice made Bertl smile a little.

‘No, I moved here with my friend Reiner. He’s really outgoing, so I think it’s mostly thanks to him that I didn’t end up a hermit,’ he admitted.

‘But you found a job, right? So you would’ve had to leave the house even without Reiner’s help,’ Jean pointed out, and Bertholdt tried not to smile at the way Jean struggled with pronouncing the German name. 

‘Actually, that was Reiner’s idea as well,’ he admitted. ‘He pointed out that I’ve always been busy with making the perfect espresso, so,’ he shrugged.

They had been slowly making their way across the sidewalk, walking past little café’s and shops, when Jean suddenly stopped and grabbed his hands.

‘Let’s enter here, they’re still open,’ he grinned, and it took Bertl a few seconds to register the florist’s shop in front of them, because _Jean was holding his hand_. His hand was cold, and the skin a little dry, but it was more than enough to heat up Bertl’s insides.

‘Okay,’ he managed to say without stuttering, and Jean pushed open the door and dragged him inside.

The smell of fresh flowers and scented candles hit immediately, and Bertholdt looked around at the buckets with colorful bouquets lined up in the front. He was still admiring them when Jean let go of his hand to scratch at the back of his neck.

‘Sorry, that was kind of sudden, wasn’t it?’ He asked, sounding self conscious. ‘I just noticed the sign out front saying the roses are on sale, and I thought- uh,’ he said, the end of the sentence ending in unintelligible mumbling as his face flared bright red.

Bertholdt could feel a similar blush tainting his cheeks as he listened to Jean’s stuttering.

‘Are you saying you want to buy me a rose?’ He asked. Jean pursed his lips together and looked up at him.

‘Uhm, yes? Do you like roses? Oh, God, I’m sorry I don’t know why I– this is way too cheesy, forget about it,’ he mumbled, pulling up the collar of his coat as if he was about to leave the shop again.

‘I– I’d like that,’ Bertholdt breathed out hesitantly, immediately shutting Jean up.

‘Oh,’ Jean said, surprised. ‘Okay,’ he added, and the smile returned on his face. He grabbed Bertl’s hand again and pulled him along to the back of the shop, where a few buckets with leftover roses were standing close to the counter. 

Most of the buckets were already empty since it was the end of the day, but there was still a handful of roses left. Jean picked out one of them and laid it down on the counter.

‘Will that be all?’ A woman asked, and Bertholdt was just quick enough to swallow down the noise of surprise that almost escaped him. It was the flower lady that always came to his coffeeshop– the one to which Ymir had told about his date. 

His meager attempt to hide behind Jean didn’t succeed, of course. Jean was tall, but not nearly as tall as Bertholdt.

‘Oh!’ The woman exclaimed as soon as she saw him, and the twinkle in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed by Bertholdt. ‘So this is your date?’ She asked, her eyes now going to Jean.

‘Uhm,’ was Bertholdt’s first clever response, and got even more flustered when Jean squeezed the hand he was still holding. ‘Yes,’ he answered.

‘He makes the best coffee, doesn’t he?’ She asked, turning back to Jean.

‘Hm, he does,’ Jean answered, and Bertholdt tried to hide how much that casual compliment managed to fluster him.

‘Are you buying him a rose? Such a romantic,’ the lady said when she saw the flower lying in front of her. She accepted Jean’s money, and continued talking as she put it in the cash register.

‘You know, I married the guy that took me on my first date. Though there weren’t any roses, he did buy me ice cream,’ she told, but apparently saw something in Jean’s face that kept her from retelling the entire story again. Instead, she waved her hand and quickly wrapped the rose in some brown paper. ‘I don’t want to keep you from your date, of course,’ she said.

‘Thank you,’ Jean said, picking up the flower and turning back around to face Bertholdt.

‘Here,’ he said with a shy smile, holding out the rose towards him. Bertholdt couldn’t help but blush again, carefully taking the flower from Jean’s fingers. Some of the outer petals were a little damaged, and it was clear why this was one   
of the few flowers that was left, but Bertholdt thought it looked beautiful nevertheless.

‘Thank you, Jean,’ he mumbled, too shy to say anything else, especially with the flower lady still watching them.

‘Go on, go outside!’ She ushered. ‘I need to close my shop, you boys go enjoy the rest of your date,’ she added with a wink.

Both Jean and Bertholdt left the shop feeling flustered, but they didn’t let go of each other’s hands as they continued their stroll across the street.

It was silent for awhile, but this time it didn’t make Bertholdt nervous. He realised it was already getting dark, and the little florist’s shop wasn’t the only one that was closing.

‘It’s getting pretty late,’ he muttered, a little reluctant to say the words. Jean looked around and hummed.

‘I could walk you home?’ He proposed, looking a little unsure. Bertholdt smiled and felt brave enough to give Jean’s hand a quick squeeze.

‘I’d like that,’ he answered. ‘I mean, if it’s not a bother to you.’ 

Jean nudged him with his shoulder, smiling. ‘I wouldn’t suggest it if it was,’ he pointed out.

They continued walking again, and after Bertholdt gave a quick explanation of where he lived they kept up their conversation. He was surprised to find that by now the talking came easy, and whenever silence fell it was a comfortable one.

For once, Bertholdt wasn’t glad about the fact that he didn’t live very far away from his work, because before he knew it they were standing in front of his door.

‘I had a great time,’ Jean said, his eyes flitting over Bertl’s face before falling down to his shoes again.

‘Me too,’ Bertholdt answered. They were talking in soft voices now, something about the goodbye and the darkness around them making them whisper.

Jean seemed as if he wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure how, opening his mouth and closing it again. Bertholdt watched as he visibly swallowed, following the bob of his Adam’s apple.

‘Can I kiss you?’ Jean finally said out loud, and Bertl’s eyes widened in surprise.

‘I– uhm, yes,’ Bertl stammered, standing very still when Jean stood on his tip toes and leaned closer. Right before their lips touched, both of them turned the same way and their noses bumped together. When Jean huffed out a breath through his nose Bertholdt could feel the air moving against his cheek, and he couldn’t stop the nervous giggle from leaving his lips.

‘ _Ssh_ , that didn’t happen,’ Jean mumbled, the grin audible in his voice. Before Bertholdt could reply Jean bridged the gap between them, pressing his lips against Bertholdt’s. Jean’s lips were a little dry, and the tip of his nose was cold as it bumped against Bertholdt’s cheek. The kiss wasn’t very long or heated either, barely more than a quick peck, but it left Bertl a little breathless either way. 

Jean sank back to his feet, and it was only when he rubbed his thumb across the back of Bertholdt’s hand that he realised they were still holding hands.

‘Can I have your number?’ Jean asked, and even managed to sound shy despite the fact that they just kissed. ‘I’d like to do this again,’ he added.

Bertholdt smiled. ‘Me too,’ he said, and when Jean held out his phone he typed in his number with shaking hands. He watched as Jean put it back into his pocket, stretching out their last few moments.

‘So I’ll see you soon?’ Bertl asked hopefully, and Jean gave him a wide grin in return.

‘Of course,’ he replied. ‘I still need my morning coffee,’ he added jokingly.

‘Okay,’ Bertholdt said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and trying to suppress the wide grin that wanted to come out.

‘Okay,’ Jean repeated, bouncing a little on his feet. His breath left little clouds of white smoke in the air, and Bertholdt realised it had cooled down since the first moment they’d stepped outside.

‘You should get back home,’ he said, a little disappointed that their night was now really over. ‘I don’t want you to catch a cold.’

Jean nodded, pulling his beanie a little tighter over his ears.

‘Yeah,’ he said, and then a little more sternly, ‘okay, goodbye.’

‘Goodbye,’ Bertholdt repeated, and right before he watched Jean around, he managed to gather enough courage to bend down and quickly give Jean a last kiss on the cheek. When Jean turned around, his cheeks were no longer just red from the cold. Bertholdt watched him as he started making his way back home, staying outside until Jean rounded the corner of the street and disappeared out of sight.


End file.
